Some people have differing ideas and opinions as to what living on an abandoned island would be like. Life on my abandoned island, to me, is lonely. Even though it can be fun to be alone, I wish that I didn’t spend every day in solitude. If only there was someone else to play around and joke with me, the sparkling white-capped waves and the small stretch of soft sand would be more enjoyable.

It all started on a boat ride. Or rather, a cruise. The workers on the large water vessel did not seem to care if anyone fell overboard, because two people had already disappeared into the water in the past couple of days. Had I known I would be the next victim, I would have stayed near the inside of the ship. But because I cannot predict the future, I slipped in a puddle and went tumbling through a crack between the metal bars of the railings. The fall was not as harsh as I had expected it to be, but I still felt the stinging pain that exploded over my skin at the impact of slapping flat down into the water. The other passengers, probably deeming me dead and gone, kept sailing along as I had flailed in the deep waters with the little energy I had left. I knew it was useless, so I began to look around me. An small patch of sand with green on top was in the distance, but not too far. So, I began to slowly make my way through the water. When I reached the beach, I remember I had crawled up the sand and into the shade of a nearby tree that provided some good shade. Exhausted, I managed to keep my eyes open for a few minutes before dozing off. But this is a memory, and who knows if it has been tampered with by my isolation.

Surviving on the island would be easy if I could divide and conquer with another person, but since that is not the case, I have figured out how to make do and live. Every morning, I wake up at the crack of dawn; not by choice, but by the sunrise. There is little I can do about this, and I do not mind much. I take one of my spears, having long perfected the art of making them, and head over to the shallow waters. Calculating where the fish actually were through the water was difficult when I fist arrived here, but I now know the right angle to perfectly aim and jab with. Next, I gut the fish with a sharpened stone, which must be the worst part, and create a fire on the beach with dried palm fronds. I skewer it and cook the edible part of the fish before setting it to cool on a flame stone. After eating, the forest is my next destination. My island is not too large, but definitely not tiny. About a mile in width and two miles in length, the center holds a bubbling spring and a small waterfall; my source of freshwater. I have a drink as the sun rises higher, and I am forever grateful for the shadows created by the trees.
At about noon, I climb up a tree to have a look around. I notice a few palm trees have new coconuts, so I make a mental note to snatch those in some time. I still have hours to pass, so I retreat to my tent of large branches that have been covered with palm fronds. There are few objects inside. One is a knife I found when wandering through the woods, no doubt accidentally left by a traveler long ago. A pair of sandals, fashioned using dried peels of various fruits from different seasons. And other nameless things that are not much important. Now is time to climb and take the fruits.
Dragging my feet, I return to my previous tree and try to picture where the trees with the fruits are. A few steps to the right, a mighty and tall palm tree stands proudly. I sigh and begin to scale the neighboring tree with a speed I didn’t know I was capable of. I soon reach the top and jump to the taller one, grappling with the coconuts to pluck them from their places. Soon I am back on ground again. I set a few of the hard, brown-shelled fruits on the ground and keep one in hand. I slam in on a rock and it cracks right down the middle, splashing the sweet water into the earth. The soil absorbs it quickly, and I raise one of the halves to my lips. A curved rock is near, and I take it in my hands to scrape the flesh of the coconut and consume it quickly. Repeating this process on the other few, I am soon finished and nightfall is approaching. I head over to my half hut, half tent, and lay on the ground. Despite my efforts, I cannot seem to drift asleep. I quietly get up, not wanting to disturb the silence, and walk to the beach. The sand slopes upward from the beach at a small angle, but it is perfect for resting I lie on my back and stare up at the bright stars until they feel droopy. Another day has passed.